


A Little Bit Rusty

by one_of_those_crushing_scenes



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Tales of Suspense
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes is a Good Guy, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Discussion of Various Types of Violence, Everyone Else Is a Problematic Fave, F/M, Gen, Kate Bishop Is a Good Bro, Kind of meta, Minor Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Post–Tales of Suspense (2015) #104, Relationship Study, Self-Castigation, Tales of Suspense Vol. 1 (1959)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_of_those_crushing_scenes/pseuds/one_of_those_crushing_scenes
Summary: The adventure is over. Black Widow is alive. And Clint is left with a letter that he doesn't quite know what to make of. Fortunately, he’s got a protégé and an ex-wife who know how to get answers.





	A Little Bit Rusty

**Author's Note:**

> All my faves are problematic. I love them anyway. Takes place immediately after the end of ToS #104. Title is from [Push](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAkHqYlqops) by Matchbox 20.
> 
> Special thanks to everyone on Discord and Tumblr who had discussions on ToS and this fic in particular with me. I had a lot of hesitations in writing this because I wanted to do justice to these characters and these topics, so I definitely appreciated the sounding boards.

By the time Clint reached the cabin, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there for a month. Maybe take a shower first, if he could gather the strength, but probably not. His muscles were sapped of energy, and his mind was just as weary. As he turned the key in the lock, he started to fantasize about warm blankets and soft beds.

He opened the door and was met by the smell of frying eggs.

Well. He and Bobbi _had_ agreed to retain joint ownership of the place, so technically they each had just as much right to be there as the other one. Still, talk about the odds.

Walking inside, Clint peered around the divider between the front hall and the kitchen, and sure enough, there she was. Standing in front of the stove, in an oversized orange T-shirt and gray pajama bottoms, spatula in her hand.

“Come on in,” Bobbi said, not looking up.

He walked around the divider and considered going to look over her shoulder into the pan, but the fatigue was too strong, and the chairs around the kitchen table were calling his name. He sat down in one of them and rested his cheek on his folded arms on top of the table.

“So, how long are you staying?” she asked. As if his barging into their shared cabin while she was making use of it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I, uh... I dunno,” Clint said. “It doesn’t—I mean, I didn’t realize you’d be here. Sorry to intrude.”

“It’s no problem.” She scraped the inside of the pan and flipped the eggs. “I’m kind of between apartments now, so I figured I’d take advantage of this place, but you’ve got good timing—I’m actually leaving in a couple of hours. Tony wants me to meet with some contractors in L.A. to talk about fixing up the Avengers Compound. He’s thinking about starting the West Coast team back up, if you can believe it.” She turned around, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement like she was trying to include him in the joke.

If he’d been more awake, he would have been very interested to hear that Tony was considering reinstating the West Coast team, and even more interested in the fact that he was only hearing about this now, but he couldn’t scrounge up the wherewithal. Still, he tried to make conversation. “Oh. Have fun.” He lifted his head for a second and watched her cook. “I was just in L.A. a few weeks ago. Helped Kate out with a thing. Or maybe she helped me out. Either way.”

“Kate’s in L.A.?” she asked, throwing him another look over her shoulder.

“Yeah, in Venice. Runs a detective agency. Illegal, maybe. She’s working on her license.” The smell of food finally dragged him from his seat, and he got up and walked over to take a look. Inside the pan was a large omelet with peppers, mushrooms, and some sort of green herb. Parsley?

“That’s a lot of food for one person,” Clint remarked. “Even a super soldier person.”

“Yeah, I added a few more eggs when I heard you pull up.” She turned off the burner and reached overhead for dishes. “Can you get the silverware?”

They sat down with their food a few minutes later and started to eat. He'd been so tired he hadn't realized that he hadn't eaten in...quite possibly more than twenty-four hours, and with the first bite, he suddenly realized that he was ravenous.

“So, did you find her?” Bobbi asked, out of the blue.

Clint nearly choked on a mushroom. “Who?”

She gave him a dubious look. “Come on. All you talk about for weeks is these Hydra guys being bumped off—‘ _It’s gotta be Nat, it could only be her, she’s alive, I’m telling you_ ’—then you go dark for two weeks? Doesn’t take a Level Ten spy to put two and two together.”

Rather than answering, he pulled Natasha’s letter out of his pocket and handed it to her. Taking the paper from him with one hand, she put her fork down on her plate so she could unfold it.

Bobbi read it once through and looked up. “Is this real?”

Trying to buy himself a few seconds, Clint went for his juice, but Bobbi placed her hand, palm-down, on top of the glass and shook the letter in his face. “Is this real?” she repeated.

“Of course it’s real.”

“She’s _alive_?” She removed her hand from his glass, letting it fall to the table.

“Yeah. And she wants me to go fuck myself.” He indicated the letter with a wave of his hand, then took a swig, feeling sorry for himself.

Bobbi looked back and forth between him and the letter. “I don’t think that’s exactly...” Her voice trailed off, and she tried again. “Well, she says thank you.”

“Sure.” He shrugged.

“How— _how_ is she alive?” Bobbi asked, her voice full of wonder.

“The Red Room put her consciousness into a cloned body, or something.”

She raised her eyebrows. “As you do.”

They fell into silence as they continued to eat. Clint forced himself to chew slowly, to avoid making himself sick by gorging on an empty stomach.

“What did she mean, in the letter?” Bobbi asked after a few minutes.

“She meant she’s sick of me butting in where I’m not wanted, and she wants me to back off.” Clint closed his eyes and pinched between his eyebrows, trying to drain out some of the tension. “Am I really that bad? As preachy and stuck-up as she makes it sound?”

Bobbi hesitated, then said slowly, “Everyone...everyone has traits that can be made out to be positive or negative depending on the words you use. You’re idealistic.”

He snorted. “I’m a hypocrite.”

“There are worse things in the world than falling short once in a while.”

Falling short once in a while. What a benign phrase. Everything he’d done, everything he’d seen over the past year. Mission after mission, adventure after adventure, until it all blurred together, those futile attempts to distract himself so that when he closed his eyes, the last seconds of Bruce Banner’s life didn’t play in slow motion across the inside of his eyelids.

“I’m so tired, Bobbi.”

She looked him up and down, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. “Do you want me to stay? Tony can wait.”

“No, no. I just need sleep, a lot of it. Time to lick my wounds, whatever.”

“If you’re sure...”

“I came here to be alone, remember? I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, then.” She stood up and leaned over to give him a kiss on the top of his head. “Feel free to do the dishes. I’ve got to go and pack.”

\--

Finding a contractor to fix up the Compound had been quite the runaround. Bobbi had still had a few contacts from the Wackos’ heyday, but out of five phone numbers, three of them were disconnected, and the other two guys were retired. She was able to get a recommendation from Michael, who was retired, but the guy he recommended didn’t think he would be able to handle the specific demands of an Avengers team, although he knew another guy who might. Eventually, she found someone who had previous experience on a team that had been on call for the Baxter Building and was now running his own business in L.A. Their meeting this morning had been fruitful, and the rest was in Tony’s hands. Bobbi was just about ready to head back east, as soon as she finished up some personal business.

She pressed the call button on her phone. There was a second of static, and then it started to ring. And ring.

Six rings later, she was considering hanging up the phone, but then she heard a beep, and a second later, Bucky Barnes’s voice was in her ear. “Hi, Bobbi. What’s up?” There was a hint of an echo on the other end as if he was in a cramped space. A bathroom?

“Oh, not much,” she said. “Just calling to say hi.”

Her inflection, if not her words, made it clear that she was _not_ just calling to say hi, so she wasn’t surprised when the response was a suspicious, “Oh?”

Done with the pleasantries, Bobbi switched to a more serious tone and asked, “Where is she, Bucky?”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line.

“Come on,” she said.

“She disappeared after blowing up the Red Room Academy,” he responded. “What makes you think I know where she went?”

Bobbi crossed her arms, looking at the foot traffic on the street just out the window. “That’s cute that you think you have a chance of convincing me you don’t know where she is.”

“It’s cute that you think you have a chance of convincing me to sell her out.”

She hmphed. “Don’t you think that’s an exaggeration? I’m a friend.”

“If she wants to be found, she’ll reach out.”

“Not good enough. I need to find her.”

He sounded annoyed. “What’s so important, anyway?”

She didn’t say anything, turning around so that she could lean against the window.

“Bobbi,” he said.

“Bucky.”

“I’m not going to tell you where she is.”

“Bucky—”

“I’m hanging up now.”

The line went dead.

Well, that conversation had gone exactly as expected. Not that she’d really hoped for anything else; Bucky was loyal, and that was commendable.

Bobbi shoved her phone into her pocket and turned towards the desk. “Did we get his location?”

From behind her laptop, Kate grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. “Saratoga County, here we come.”

\--

For someone who had apparently spent most of her life—depending on how that word was defined—asleep in a pod, Natasha was exhausted. Accomplished, but exhausted. She was holding onto James’s torso with the last vestiges of strength left in her body as they returned to her safe house on his motorcycle after a week of mayhem.

Fortunately for her, the new Red Room leadership had put all their eggs in one basket. Cady, Usenky and the rest of them had figured that since they had the secret to life after death, they might as well use it for themselves in addition to their Widows, and had set up contingency clones for themselves as well. What that meant was that Yurgei Ivanov, the Red Room’s in-house telepath, had everything that she needed in his head, and he was happy to share it all. Bank account information, safe houses, clone harvesting sites, passwords, birth dates, passport numbers, server names and locations, home addresses, vacation addresses. _Everything_.

It had taken James an extra few days to catch up with her because he’d needed to get his arm fixed, and once he’d arrived, he’d made it clear that he was annoyed.

“When you come back from the dead, there’s a blank slate,” he’d said. “I don’t automatically assume that I can trust you. Next time, just give me a sign.”

She’d swallowed and nodded, and with that out of the way, he’d reached out and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She’d held on tight, feeling her eyes start to well up—after all, she’d thought he was dead, too. All of those times they’d lost each other, and now, there they were.

When they’d finally pulled back, she’d used her fingertips to trace the scarred ridge where the arm had been welded on. “Does it feel weird?”

He’d nodded. “A little. It was a rush job; Tony squeezed me in between appointments. He’s going to start working on a new one, but this’ll do for now. It’s always weird adjusting to a new arm.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she’d said with a smirk.

When she’d first woken up in her new body, she hadn’t realized there would be so many things she’d need to adjust to—the shape of her fingernails being slightly off, the fact that her right ankle didn’t give her trouble when it rained anymore, a missing mole on her knee. The other day, while undressing for a shower, she’d looked in the mirror and had been completely taken aback by the fact that her ears weren’t pierced. And on the other hand, she now had new stretch marks she’d never had before, likely due to whatever quick-growing process the Red Room had used for the cloned bodies.

Working again with James was the first time she’d felt comfortable in her body, and now that she had _all_ of her memories back, she was tempted to pick up where they’d left off before Leonid Novokov had torn him from her, but it was too soon. Her body wasn’t quite _hers_ yet, and she didn’t want to start a physical relationship until she was more...settled in.

They approached the house, and James turned into the dirt driveway, ready to pull into the wooden shack garage. They both noticed the open door at the same time, and James quickly killed the engine. Natasha looked about into the woods to see if there was any movement, but everything seemed clear, so they walked over to the shack and peeked inside. A black convertible Porsche was parked inside, its clean, shiny finish a stark contrast to all the leaves and mud surrounding it.

“Oh, no,” James said.

She was perplexed. “Why would someone park their car—”

“Because she thinks she’s cute.” He shook his head.

“Who?”

He didn’t answer. “Come on, we’d better go inside.”

Trusting him that she wasn’t about to be assassinated, Natasha followed him into the house. Sitting on the couch in the salon were Bobbi Morse and Kate Bishop, which could only mean one thing: that she was going to get an earful.

Good. Let them bring it.

Bobbi’s eyes widened, and she put a hand over her mouth as her eyes started to water. From next to her, Kate shot Bobbi a confused look.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—” Bobbi started. She pulled a tissue out from the box on the side table and dabbed at her eyes. “I mean, I expected you, I just—I was at your funeral, Nat. You were _dead_.”

“I’m still dead, officially,” Natasha said. “Hi, Kate.”

Kate nodded, a little overwhelmed, looking back and forth between her and Bobbi. “Hi, Natasha.”

Natasha tilted her head towards Bobbi, who was still wiping her eyes. “Bobbi?”

“Yeah.” She crumpled up the tissue and stuffed it into her pocket, then stood up and walked over to her. “I’m here to yell at you, but I’m also really, really happy that you’re alive—can I give you a hug?”

“Can we—can we do the yelling part first and the hugging part after?”

“Yeah, sure. That works.”

She glanced over at James. “Do you mind giving us some privacy?”

“Of course. I’ll be upstairs.” He reached out and touched her shoulder, giving it a squeeze, then pointed to Bobbi and said, “The two of us are going to have _words_ later.”

“As if you wouldn’t have done the same thing in my shoes,” she shot back.

He didn’t answer, just turned and walked away, disappearing into the hallway. The sound of his footsteps accompanied him up the stairs. Once his footfalls were out of hearing range, Bobbi’s facial expression switched almost comically quickly from happy to furious. “What the hell, Nat?”

Natasha blinked. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“How could you do that to Clint?”

She sighed. “I have a right to pick my own team, you know.”

Bobbi raised her eyebrows but didn’t respond. It was clearly a ploy to make her keep talking, but it was working. Frustrated, Natasha continued, “If Clint feels left out, I’m sorry, but this wasn’t a job for him. I just got back from shutting the Red Room down. For good, this time. Do you want to know how many different people’s blood I'm wearing right now? And that’s just today.”

“So, his methods are conservative—”

“It’s not his _methods_ , it’s his sermons. ‘Natasha, that was wrong, Natasha, do better, Natasha, be different.’ Believe it or not, I actually do have a moral compass of my own, and I can't work if he's always next to me, lecturing. I don’t take orders from him.”

“I’m not talking—I’m not talking about the fact that you did a job without him. I’m talking about the Dear John letter you wrote him. Natasha, he took it _so hard_ when you died.”

“You think I don’t know about that? The Mount _fell_ , Bobbi. They reported it on the news. No survivors. I went to my death thinking that all of you had beat me there.” She paced towards the breakfront and focused on a decorative bowl. Anything to avoid looking them in the eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be a Dear John letter.”

“Well, whatever you call it, cutting him out of your life like that...” Bobbi sighed, and Natasha turned around to face her again. “He has strong opinions on right and wrong, fine. And yeah, he’s stubborn and bullheaded and he has a hard time putting himself in other people’s shoes, but he cares, and he _tries_. You don’t want to partner with him anymore? So don’t partner with him anymore! But that’s not something you give up a friendship over.”

It was on the tip of her tongue. And Bobbi could tell, the way she was glaring, almost daring her to say it. _You gave up a marriage over it._ She could have done it; she could have opened her mouth and let the words out. It would have been so easy, and if she did, it would have ended the argument right there and then. Bobbi would have walked out of the house and left her in peace, and everything else, everything that Natasha _hadn’t_ said, would have remained hidden.

It was more than not wanting to hurt Bobbi that kept her from saying it. It wasn't the same, and that was the truth. Most of Natasha's kills were pragmatic, not personal. And furthermore, Natasha had never needed nor asked for Clint's support. Nothing like the death that had driven a wedge between Clint and Bobbi all those years ago.

Seeing that Natasha was holding her tongue, Bobbi continued, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “I understand where you’re coming from—if anyone understands where you’re coming from, it’s me. But telling him to stop caring about you? That's cold. He doesn't deserve that.”

Natasha steeled her spine, met Bobbi’s eyes, and said calmly, “You’re right; he deserves better. I’m not the kind of person he needs in his life. The two of you—” she pointed at her and Kate, “—you’re good for him. I read the news when I came back, Bobbi; I saw that interview with the Thing. What you did for him? When the Hulk attacked?”

“Oh, he’s only allowed to have one, two people in his life who care about him? That big heart of his doesn’t have room for anyone else?”

“I’ve only ever brought him trouble. Think about how different his life would have been if he’d never met me; if I’d never dragged him into a life of crime. He’s stuck with the ‘reformed villain’ label, but he could have been a founding Avenger.”

“Yeah?” Bobbi cocked her head to the side. “And where would you be, Natasha? If he’d never met you?”

“I’d be a mindless Red Room automaton; you think I don’t know that? You think I don’t look at him and see how much I owe him, how much I can never make up what I took from him and what he gave to me?”

Bobbi sighed. “It’s not—it’s not a _transaction_. It’s not about who took or gave more than the other one. Do you honestly think he would take it all back? What about all the good you’ve done? What about all the lives you’ve saved?”

Rather than continuing that argument, Natasha turned towards the couch. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Kate. Why are you here? What do you think about all this?”

Bobbi turned, too, waiting to see what Kate would say.

“I think...” Kate paused, then stood up and walked over slowly, so that the three of them stood facing each other in a triangle. “I think that the last time I saw Clint, he was being chased by a woman who wanted to kill him, who blamed him for her daughter’s death, and he came out with his hands up, telling her he understood her grief because he’d also lost someone important to him. He announced to an entire street of people that his world was darker since your death.” She swallowed. “What do I think? I think that the last thing Clint needs is for more people in his life to turn their backs on him.”

Kate leaned back and adjusted her position so that she was next to Bobbi. With the two of them facing off against her, Natasha stood her ground. “I think that with some time and distance, he might realize that he’s better off without me around.”

Bobbi snorted.

“Well, why can’t he make that decision for himself?” Kate demanded.

“I don’t know,” Natasha snapped back. “Why _can’t_ he? Why does he always let people back in after they’ve hurt him? Me, Swordsman, fucking _Barney_...”

Kate looked surprised. “What about Barney?”

“You see?” Natasha turned to Bobbi, gesturing in Kate's direction. “See how quickly he forgives? He never even mentioned it—she doesn’t even _know_ who Barney used to be.”

“That’s not—” Bobbi started. “You’re not like that.”

“I’m not? I’m not someone who saw some poor soul in a circus costume running from the cops and decided he would make a good rube, picked him up at the side of the road and tricked him into committing treason? That wasn’t me?”

“That was _fifteen years ago_.” Bobbi threw her hands up. “Yeah, you did bad things in the past. You were brainwashed for decades. But you broke free. You’ve changed. Don’t tell me you’re the same person who picked Clint up at the side of the road fifteen years ago, because I know you better than that.”

They stared at each other for a few minutes, neither of them willing to back down. Finally, she braced herself and said flatly, “I hit him, Bobbi. Did he tell you that?”

The room went silent, except for a sharp intake of air from Kate. Bobbi’s eyes met hers, and the disappointed look told Natasha everything she needed to know.

“He didn’t, did he.” Natasha crossed her arms. “He should have. It scares me so much that he didn’t.” He should have known that he didn’t have to accept it, that he didn’t deserve it, that he should have been the one to walk away. God, all of the things he was willing to put up with!

She looked into Bobbi’s face, saw the hesitation. “I saw the bruise,” Bobbi finally admitted.

Natasha wasn't surprised. She’d known his jaw would bruise, truth be told was hoping his jaw would bruise, so everyone would know what kind of person she was. Someone not worth following.

“ _What_ ,” Kate said in a low voice, a controlled rage in her eyes that Natasha had never seen before.

“I didn’t know for sure,” Bobbi clarified.

“He looks up to you,” Kate said to Natasha, ignoring Bobbi. “Of course he didn’t tell anyone! Of course he covered for you! Aren’t you like ninety years old? Couldn’t you have found the time to take a class in psychology? With his background? How can you put this on _him_?”

“I know,” Natasha said. “That’s why I wrote the damn letter.”

Kate looked up at Bobbi. “And you! She hit him hard enough to bruise, and you _knew_.”

“I didn't—”

“You knew, and you lied to me! You brought me here under false pretenses, telling me how important her friendship was to him, but you _knew_ —”

“I didn't _know_ , okay?” Bobbi burst out. “I hoped—I had my suspicions—I wanted to be wrong.”

Kate shook her head. “So you didn’t want to know; that makes it a whole lot better. I feel so much better now, really.” She crossed her arms, looking away from both of them. Bobbi opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“I know what's going on in your head,” Natasha said, looking at Bobbi. “You're making up excuses and throwing them out, one at a time. ‘She was just trying to push him away’—not an excuse. ‘She was in a dark place’—yeah, so were the rest of you. ‘Violence is just part of our lives’—not unless lives are at stake. Every single defense your mind comes up with, you _know_ it’s not good enough.”

“Natasha, listen to me,” Bobbi started.

“No, fuck this,” Kate interrupted, starting to pace. “Nobody told me about the hitting; I wouldn’t have come if I’d known.” She glared at them both. “Fuck you both and your culture of so-called heroes beating on each other all day like it doesn't matter. You all get hit all the time anyway, what does it matter who's the one doing it, right? It’s sick.”

Some defensive instinct rose up inside Natasha, despite her knowing better. “Oh, and I suppose I didn’t see you on the front lines during the Superhero Civil War?” she retorted, eyebrows raised.

Kate whirled on her. “Don’t you talk to me about the Superhero Civil War. There was only one side that built cyborgs to attack their friends and tried to lock them up in the Negative Zone every time they foiled a mugging.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Don’t tell me I’m not wrong; I know I’m not wrong!” she shouted tearfully. Wiping her eyes with the edge of her sleeve, she continued, “It’s not ‘best’ for Clint to keep your distance because you’ll inevitably hurt him; it’s best to just not hurt him! Why is this so complicated?”

At the time, she’d been so sure it was the right thing to do. Objectively, the Hydra makeover Steve Rogers _thing_ had needed to die. Objectively, Clint wouldn’t accept that. Objectively, she’d needed to do something to prevent him from following, from stopping her from doing the only possible thing that could have saved them. And if the price of saving all their lives was destroying a few friendships...well, she’d done worse.

“I don’t know why it’s so complicated," Natasha finally admitted. "I guess...I need some time to figure it out.”

Without saying anything, Bobbi took two steps in, then put her arms around her for the hug they’d agreed on, but Natasha couldn’t return it. Still, Bobbi ran a hand down the back of her head and pulled back, keeping her hands on Natasha’s upper arms. The anguish in her eyes was clear, and her lips were pressed together to keep them from trembling.

When had it all gone wrong? A few years ago, for a brief period of time, the four of them had been the best of friends. They’d banded together, all past grievances forgotten, and had become a family united against Norman Osborn’s tyranny. So why was it that they couldn’t do the same when it had been Steve?

“Nat.” Bobbi’s voice brought her back to the present.

She met Bobbi’s eyes and took her hands in her own. “It’s not forever, Bobbi.”

“I missed you,” Bobbi said, her eyes going wet. “I _miss_ you.”

She felt her heart cracking. “I miss you, too. And I miss him. That’s the truth. I just need some time... to find myself again.”

“And then you’ll come back?”

“I hope so.”

Bobbi swallowed, then turned her head and nodded towards the doorway. “Will you be able to find yourself with that guy hanging around?”

Despite it all, Natasha felt a grin breaking over her face. “That guy knows when I need him to take a hike.”

“Well, good. That’s good.” Bobbi looked back again. “I guess I’d better go face the music before we go.” She turned towards the hallway and went to talk to James upstairs, leaving Natasha alone with Kate.

There was an awkward silence for a few minutes, and then Natasha glanced at Kate. “You know—”

Kate glared at her. “If you tell me I remind you of him, I'll rip your face off.”

Such a Clint thing to say. “Okay.”

\--

“You guys own this place?” Kate asked, looking around at the woods. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah.” Bobbi parked behind the cabin and turned off the ignition. “Too bad we never really got to enjoy it, but it works fairly well as a safe house.”

They got out of the car, and Kate walked around the side to let Lucky out. She scratched him behind the ears as he jumped out. “Go, have fun!”

They watched him run off to explore the trees for a few minutes. Then Bobbi turned towards the cabin. “Come on, let’s go.”

She felt a little out of place, at this secret vacation cabin she’d never heard of before, but Kate followed Bobbi up the stairs to the front porch. Bobbi unlocked the door with a key, opening it a crack and then knocking loudly, in case Clint hadn’t heard them.

“Come on in,” Bobbi said again.

Clint was in the kitchen, drying a plate with a dish towel. When he saw Bobbi, his eyes lit up. “Hey, you came back.”

“Hey, you got dressed,” Bobbi responded, casually touching the sleeve of his shirt. “Real clothes and everything.”

Kate walked up and sniffed the air. “He’s even showered.”

“Katie!” Clint laid the plate and towel on the counter and pulled her in for a hug. Over her head, he said to Bobbi, “You brought me Kate!”

Pulling one of her arms free, Kate waved a shopping bag in his face. “And Kate brought you ice cream.”

“Aww, I don’t even know which is better.” Clint put his other arm around Bobbi, and Kate set the bag of ice cream down on the counter. As he pulled both of them in and leaned his face into the top of their heads, the knot in Kate’s stomach slowly started to dissipate.

“Where's Lucky?” Clint asked.

“Chasing rabbits?” Kate guessed. “Or whatever it is that dogs do in the great outdoors, what do I know. I'll go get him.”

She didn’t see Lucky outside, but he came running up with a stick in his mouth as soon as she called for him. Kate laughed as he deposited the stick at her feet. “Maybe later. Let’s go see Clint!”

Lucky barked at Clint’s name, and they went inside.

“I think we’ll be up and running within the next three months,” Bobbi was saying.

With the door open, Lucky ran into the living room, barking in excitement, and threw himself at Clint, who squatted down and gathered him in his arms.

“You joining the Best Coast Avengers, Katie?” he asked, looking up as she walked in.

Kate shrugged. “If they ask nicely. And don’t call me Katie.” She noticed that Clint was holding a TV remote, and that the ice cream tub was sitting on the coffee table, three spoons next to it. “Are we watching something?”

“Bobbi picked Turner and Hooch,” Clint said, turning the screen on.

She chuckled. “Oh, Lucky will like that.”

Clint sat down in the middle of the couch and reached for the ice cream and the spoons. Kate seated herself on his right, with Bobbi on his other side, and Bobbi pulled the blanket off from the back of the couch. She tossed one side over to Kate, and the three of them made themselves comfortable underneath it, curled up together with the dog at their feet, as Clint opened the ice cream and passed out the spoons.

“Oh, I forgot to mention, Natasha sends regards,” Bobbi said.

Kate threw her spoon at her, and the chipper music from the opening credits sequence started to play.

**Author's Note:**

> I know that this is the most pressing issue on everyone’s minds, so I just want to assure you that I didn’t make up the shared cabin; it appears in Avengers: Solo (2011). I made up some super basic schematics in MS Paint, if you’re interested:


End file.
